


Where the Heart Is

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Getting Together, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: Romulan ale was illegal for a reason.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 26
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Incorrigible fluff, but you knew that about me already._

Romulan ale was illegal for a reason.

Leonard McCoy sprawled on the too-small ‘fleet issued sofa, halfway to oblivion at four o’clock in the afternoon. Topping up his glass, he saluted the padd balanced on the edge of the coffee table before swallowing a third of the liquid in one go. Leonard didn’t cough, but his eyes watered. Swiping at them with the back of his hand, he shifted, belched, and brought the glass to his lips again. “Goddamn it.” He lengthened his drawl, drawing out the two syllables to the empty room, “God-damn it.”

Six o’clock and Jim Kirk sauntered into the room with his easy grace and blue eyes and it was damned disgusting how he stopped dead just inside the door and his expression flipped to confusion then concern.

“Bones?” Jim took one more cautious step into Leonard’s dorm room, setting down something on the kitchenette counter before moving to stand awkwardly by the sofa. “Are you drunk?”

Leonard snorted, because it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard given how the air in the room could probably trigger a breathalyzer.

Jim’s eyebrows drew together into something that was the right side of pity, but acknowledged that this didn’t look like a run of the mill bender. “Are you okay?”

Into the mouth of his glass, Leonard said, “She’s selling my goddamn house.” 

Jim frowned for a moment, presumably parsing the sentence, before he picked up an empty glass and settled onto the floor with more grace than Leonard could have ever managed, sober or otherwise. He held out the glass until the older man relented and poured a generous measure. A toast didn’t seem to be in order, so Jim just took a sip; the burn of the liquor made him gasp, seasoned drinker though he was. “Jesus, Bones, how long have you been at this?”

Leonard waved a hand to indicate the general level of the bottle, then took a sip of his own. The liquor seemed to unseal his lips, and a propos of nothing he offered, “There’s a seventy-two inch clawfoot bathtub that I just about broke my back getting upstairs even with an anti-grav unit; in the spring and summer you can draw a bath and open the window and the mock orange that grew up that side of the house fills the room with the sweetest scent.”

He glanced down and found Jim just looking right back up, expression soft. Attentive. It was enough to make him keep going, “I found it, before we were married. It was a bit of a wreck, out in the country, ancient, but if you looked past the cosmetic issues you could see the potential. When they tore down my granddaddy’s farmhouse I pried out all the two hundred-year old stained glass windows and put them in where they’d catch the best light. You could sit in my office and know it was time for dinner when the late afternoon sunshine slants in and paints the desk yellow and red and green. And when the weather net had that outage in ‘52 it took off half the veranda and my dad and I turned new spindles for the railings ourselves, just to see if we could.”

Everything had gone fuzzy; it was only when there was a splash of water on his hand that Leonard realized he was crying.

“Bones,” Jim reared up in front of him, crouching between his knees in front of the sofa. The younger man gently removed Leonard’s glass from his hand and softly urged, “Come on, Bones. Let’s put you to bed, okay?”

Leonard frowned, eyebrows drawing tightly together as he blearily protested, “I might throw up on you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s nothing new.” Even the note of resignation didn’t entirely smother something more fond in Jim’s voice. He carefully drew the older man to his feet, guiding Leonard as he wobbled on the way to the sleeping area. It was barely dinnertime, but Jim didn’t need a medical degree to know sleeping it off was the best thing to try. Closing the blinds against the twilight he called off the lights.

Into the dark room, Leonard offered, “I’d always thought I’d retire there; someday, even if I left for a while.”

A blanket was gently tugged over him in response.

********************

Leonard McCoy woke up to a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like absolute death. He rolled over, only to frown in surprise at the sight of a hypo and glass of water on his nightstand. He couldn’t recall such foresight on his own behalf. Clawing at it, he fumbled the device once before managing to pick it up and draw it into bed. Painkiller, caffeine, rehydration; classic hangover blend. He depressed the contents into his neck, gulped the water, and was amazed at how human it was possible to feel just seconds later. Gods bless modern medicine.

The second surprise of the morning came when he wandered out of the bedroom to find Jim Kirk poking at something on the stove, wearing yesterday’s jeans and a t-shirt that Leonard recognized from his own closet. 

The kid looked up in almost guilty surprise, for what, Leonard couldn’t fathom, then tipped the frying pan to show it was full of bacon. “Thought you’d be in the mood for something greasy.”

“You thought right,” Leonard grimaced at the gravel in his voice, clearing his throat and slumping into one of the tall chairs pulled up to the counter. “I take it you came over last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Jim kept his gaze on the hot grease as he tipped the bacon onto a plate. “Yeah, I came over around six and you were already pretty far gone.”

Six? Leonard’s recollections only seemed to stretch to about four-thirty. Maybe five. Masking his embarrassment with a bite of toast, he chewed and swallowed before saying, “I’m sorry you had to look after me. I told you?” A hasty nod made Leonard flush; he must have been a damned mess the night before. 

The bacon, toast and coffee was heaven, and if the younger man was a little more quiet than normal Leonard wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Jim, of course, just waited until breakfast was mostly demolished to clear his throat and silently pass Leonard a padd.

“What’s this?” The lack of response made him look up to find that Jim looked _nervous_. The kid never looked nervous; it didn’t suit him at all. Leonard bent his head to the padd, reading in increasing disbelief until he couldn’t help but stop and look up at the younger man in disbelief, “You bought my house.”

Blue eyes wide and just a little too bright, Jim confirmed, “I bought your house.”

“Why?”

Jim pressed his palms to his knees, shoulders bowing under Leonard’s scrutiny as he said, “You seemed to _really_ care.”

“But, Jim. You just bought a _house_.” Leonard’s mouth seemed to be working faster than his brain, “How did you— I can’t afford to buy it from you right now.”

“It’s okay. There was some… settlement money.”

That was the first Leonard had ever heard of it, and from what he could remember Jim could have used some credits when he’d turned up on the Riverside shuttle with just the clothes on his back. “From your dad?”

“No,” Jim frowed for a moment, then amended, “Well, yes, but that was long gone by the time I was a teenager.”

“So?”

“From,” Jim licked his lips, uncertainty inexplicably increasing until he near-whispered, “Tarsus.”

Something skittered to a halt in Leonard brain and he felt his jaw go lax in surprise.“You were on _Tarsus_?” Jim’s gaze was firmly fixed on the scarred and pitted countertop, legacy of a decade of cadets attempting to cook. Acutely aware he was waffling, Leonard attempted to start a sentence, “Jim, I—”

It only made the younger man’s shoulders stiffen and he swiftly cut Leonard off, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jim did look up then, but his face was almost expressionless as he asserted, “I’ve got to go— my flight crew have the simulator booked at ten.”

As Jim swept out of the room leaving a half-empty plate in his wake, Leonard realized the younger man hadn’t said his usual _see you later_.

Utterly bemused, Leonard turned his attention back to the padd. There is was, in very formal legal language, James Tiberius Kirk was the owner of the property, with title transferred, effective immediately, from Jocelyn Darnell. Appendix four contained a list of contents— it looked like Jim had reserved the right to purchase specific items of interest as well. The antique desk in his office, that he’d carted home from a flea market two towns over; the battered wingback chair that had belonged to his grandfather. Leonard exhaled a long, uneven breath— they could be _his_ again. The _house_ was— it was almost too much to believe.

********************

The rest of the day passed in a daze— fortunately it was Friday and Leonard’s mix of second and third year classes was easy enough. Jim’s padd was burning a hole in his pocket all day; he’d tried putting it in a medkit for safekeeping, but couldn’t resist pulling it out at lunch to read and re-read the forms.

Jim didn’t show up for lunch in the dining hall.

He didn’t show up for dinner.

By nine o’clock the avoidance was pretty obvious. It was possible that Jim had gone out drinking with other command track cadets… Leonard stood where the paths between the residences diverged for a moment, then went by the undergraduate dorms anyway. No one answered the chime, but they’d shared door codes a month into the academy and over the last two years knocking had become an afterthought. 

Jim’s room smelled like a brewery, with several empties scattered on the small coffee table and what looked like one more spilled on the floor in the kitchenette. The individual in question was on the sofa, a documentary of some sort playing on the holoscreen. Leonard moved to stand over the younger man, crossing his arms as he asked, “Did you think you could avoid the conversation by getting drunk?”

Jim just smiled up at him, beatifically, and admitted, “Maybe.”

Getting a closer look at the other man made something tighten in Leonard’s chest, “Are you _high_?” The sheepish giggle in return was answer enough to make him grumble, “Dammit, kid.”

“Bones,” Jim’s eyes were wide and almost entirely dominated by his pupils. “I _was_ a kid.”

Hand itching for a med scanner, Leonard settled for demanding, “What did you take?” When it looked like Jim hadn’t quite processed the question he gave the younger man’s shoulder a little shake and demanded, “What did you take, Jim.”

“Orion flea.”

Thank fuck for that— not strictly illegal, but a somewhat controlled substance with a clause permitting sale and consumption for ritual use. At this rate he was in for a rough morning.

Jim had continued to mumble something; bending down, Leonard managed to catch, “I’ve never told anyone. Not since—” He paused and blinked, “Bones?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t feel so good.”

Leonard pressed a hand to the younger man’s forehead and was unsurprised to find it felt a bit hot. Jim leaned into the touch, wobbling where he was sitting, and Leonard kissed the rest of his evening goodbye. “Might not have been quite as pure as you thought— mild hyperthermia is a pretty common side-effect of an adulterated batch. Come on,” he took Jim’s hands and gently tugged the younger man to his feet, “time for bed.”

Jim was compliant as he was undressed and settled onto the mattress, only to turn into an octopus with a stricken, “Don’t go,” when Leonard tried to pull away.

The younger man’s limbs were everywhere and sharing the single was going to be hell on his back, but what could Leonard say in return? Toeing off his boots, he pulled his feet up onto the bed and stretched out even as Jim made a soft noise of distress that had him gruffly asserting, “I’m not going anywhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

Drool. 

It had to be drool, leaking through his shirt. He could only just see the top of Jim’s head, but it was enough to let him infer that the younger man was sprawled across the bed, mouth open on Leonard’s chest as he snored, softly. 

Peachy.

An attempt to wriggle free only made Jim tighten his grip. Well, Leonard thought, if you insist you’ll just have to deal with the conversation that’s going to happen. He brought a hand up without thinking, rubbing a palm over Jim’s shoulder. The younger man muttered something indistinct, curling into the contact like a cat. Not for the first time Leonard wondered if the kid wasn’t somewhat touch-starved. Now, hell, maybe it wasn’t such an idle thought.

Leonard kept up the gentle rubbing, not stopping even as Jim seemed to be slowly waking up. It was only when the younger man suddenly shifted and rolled over to face Leonard, confused blue eyes blinking open to reveal they were rimmed with red.

“Why’re y—” The question was bitten off when Jim remembered, and he clearly remembered, given how his cheeks colored.

“Morning, sunshine”

“Uh,” Jim’s gaze flitted frantically around the room, before landing back on Leonard’s face, “Hi?”

Leonard snorted, shifting to release the tension that had formed in his spine. “Budge over.” 

Jim shifted to lessen his weight, but didn’t get out of bed, confusion and embarrassment warring on his face as he softly said, “I’m sorry you— you know, had to look after me.”

“I’m not.” Jim stiffened in surprise, but Leonard quickly continued, “I’m glad you told me. We don’t have to speak of it again, not if you don’t want to, but I’m glad I know.”

A wariness that had blossomed in Jim’s eyes seemed to fade until he nodded in a way that looked almost relieved.

“So,” Leonard managed a small smile, gently teasing even though he still didn’t understand. “You bought my house.”

Jim nodded again, apparently tongue-tied.

“Why?” It was the question that had been nagging at him the day before.

“Why not?” Leonard’s expression just said, _Jim_, and it was enough to prompt the younger man to continue, “It seemed to mean a lot to you, Bones; and I never really had a home like that. Not for long. I just—” He swallowed, “Wanted to.” 

“And you spent all your money.” It was half a statement, half a question.

“My grandpa Tiberius set up a trust before he died, made sure no one but me could touch it. Tarsus was—” The words seem to get caught in his throat for a moment, “It never seemed right to spend it, before, but I never gave it away either. I guess Grandpa T was pretty savvy, because it had earned a hell of a lot of interest. It always felt tainted somehow,” Jim’s eyes were big and so very earnest, “until now. It’s not my house, Bones. It’s yours. It’s your home.”

“Ours, Jim. I’ll settle for ‘ours’ until I figure out a way to pay you back.” The thought was almost overwhelming, but growing on Leonard by the moment, “So we own a house. And contents, if we want them.”

“The listing said it needed a little work.”

Leonard’s eyebrow leapt and he growled, “Sure as hell didn’t when I was looking after it. What the hell was she thinking?”

Rubbing a hand soothingly over the older man’s collarbone, Jim offered, “Did I ever tell you I used to work odd jobs in construction?”

“I think you failed to mention that.”

A moment of silence, and then, “Will you take me home, Bones? To Georgia?”

“Hell,” Leonard smiled softly despite the growl in his voice, “you know damn well I’d take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Show me your stained glass windows and the creek and the fruit trees?” Leonard hummed an affirmative, so Jim continued, “Curl up in the master bedroom with the view over the woods?”

Leonard stilled, glancing down to find Jim cautiously meeting his gaze. “That’s a hell of a way to proposition someone.”

Utterly unrepentant, although a bit pale, Jim asked, “Well?”

Curling up. With Jim. In the master bedroom overlooking the woods. Leonard would be lying if he claimed his daydreams never occasionally strayed to the subject of his best friend, but _that_... It was a lot to wrap his head around, truth be told. Glancing down again, he found Jim’s face pillowed on his stomach, hair tousled by sleep and light from the window slanting down to bring out the gold highlights. It was quite a sight. Jim licked his lips in a nervous gesture.

_Quite a sight indeed_. 

“Dammit, Jim, you didn’t have to _buy me a house_ to get me interested.”

“It wasn’t about that! It was your home, and—” The implications of Leonard’s statement took a moment to hit home, and then Jim’s eyes widened, “You’re… interested?”

Mouth suddenly dry, he confirmed, “Have been for ages.”

Utter confusion was the only way to describe the expression on Jim’s face as he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Leonard grimaced and admitted, “You were otherwise occupied. _Frequently and repeatedly_. And I’m not really keen on casual.”

Oh. Well… Jim cast his memory back over the last two years and found it left a sour note in his mouth. 

He’d been silent for so long Leonard’s expressive eyebrows had drawn together. “Are you—” Leonard swallowed, “Interested? It’s alright if— I mean, I’d understand—”

Jim surged upwards, planting a kiss on Leonard to still his lips. When he pulled back, the older man’s hazel eyes were wide with surprise, so Jim kissed him again just to make a point.

It was enough to rouse Leonard into action, bringing his hands up to grip the younger man’s shoulders and softly ask, “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Bones.” 

Jim’s eyes twinkled and it was a sight fit to take Leonard’s breath away. He still had to ask, just one more time, “This isn’t just—”

“Nope.”

Oh. Well. Leonard couldn’t stop himself smiling. _Beaming_. He stole a kiss of his own, then rubbed a thumb over Jim’s lips and said, “Get your duffel bag, padd, and a bottle of bourbon.”

“Bones?”

“There’s nothing on this weekend and I know you don’t have anything due on Monday. The padd is to book tickets, and the bourbon is to get me through the flight.” 

It was Jim’s turn to ask, “Seriously?”

“Let’s go home this weekend.” Leonard slipped his hand over to cup the side of Jim’s jaw, “Gotta make a start on making it _ours_.”

“Bones, that,” Jim had to swallow, briefly overcome by the thought of it, “that sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

Jim nodded. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
